


Just a Kid from Brooklyn

by peoriapeoria



Series: The Vita-Ray AU [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, Serum, Skinny Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers doesn't change as much in the Vita-ray.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Kid from Brooklyn

The Serum doesn't work. It hurt like hell, worse than that truth be told, he could only bear it because Agent Carter called to stop it. He's the same plucked chicken that went into the coffin. She's a swell dame, and he's got to be better, stronger. It doesn't work.

And then he's shooting one of the observers, pulls a gun off one of the soldiers and shoots a man that he thinks came with a Senator. There's more gunfire, he steps in front of Dr. Erskine. Hurts. They find the bomb, and the cyanide capsule. Steve's not the soldier they were looking for. They get the bullets out, the wound starting to close before they started.

Once he's cleaned up, Peggy hands him his shirt. He smiles at her. Turns out that it's the last good thing for awhile, since there are so many tests. Physicals, exercises, and other stuff. He supposes they need to know how he heals, but the cuts and burns still hurt. That's something they learn, morphine doesn't work on him and neither does alcohol.

He doesn't need to sleep as much, and despite what's seeming to be a gnawing hunger, he trains. Doesn't look like much, but he's less like poultry. Something smells good. He turns, despite expecting poison.

"I'm taking over your testing." Howard Stark set the tray down on the table, spun the chair around and sat folding his shirtsleeves arms across the back. "No tricks about the food."

Steve had pulled on his shirt, looked at the meal and said a silent prayer. After the first few bites he had to fight against wolfing it. It tasted so good and he realized just how hungry he was. His manners kicked in after a few minutes. "What happened to Dr. Erskine?"

"He's been looking for more candidates since the procedure. That's why I'm taking over your testing."

Steve didn't know what could be left. It was unlikely to be pleasant.

The testing changed. It was much more active, what he could do, rather than what he could withstand. Oh, there was still some of that, heat endurance and likewise cold, simulated high altitude, high pressure. The swimming endurance test had an unexpected delay, in that Steve didn't know how to swim.

He climbed ropes, he sprinted, he punched a speedbag. Some of the tests were mental, memory, problem solving. He played chess and backgammon against Howard. Stark didn't administer all the tests himself, but he seemed to attend the more complicated ones, like g-force.

Steve looked at the oil pastels and pad of paper. The first couple of drawings were inept while he improved with the medium. He drew Peggy from after the procedure.

"You're not still colorblind."

Steve looked at the tray, he'd wondered why the colors were out of order.

"We're going out."

He changed into his civilian clothes. It was strange to be out of his khakis. There had been no call to issue him a smart olive drab uniform. The car ride was exciting, the distinction between green and red was striking. The museum was humbling. Everything was so much more than it had been.

He drew when he got back to his quarters. Things from the day, from since the Serum, from before. He wondered if he'd gotten Bucky right, skin tones might take time.

Weeks later he's surprised by visitors. "Colonel Philips, Agent Carter." He salutes them.

"At ease, Rogers. You are putting me in a quandary. You have broken no less than five Olympic records, surpassed the requirements for every specialized billet and you are a shrimp. In the Army, you could be a gunner or in a tank crew, and I suppose I could give you to the Navy as a submariner. I cannot have men getting a hernia from seeing you dwarfed by your pack. From your results, you'd just sling one, pack and all, on top of your gear."

"I had hoped to join the 107th, sir."

"Out of the question, Rogers. I don't even like the options I gave you, because if you'd been healthy before the Serum, you could have done them fine without the expense. Agent Carter is going to handle this problem."

"We're going to see how you are at learning languages."

He turned out to have a pretty good ear and memory. He had to admit he didn't know how to ride a bicycle. Peggy taught him, and he was dropped well behind enemy lines with papers certifying him as military deferred and a very assembly required radio to use when needed.

He might have shown a bit more initiative than intended when he infiltrated a Hydra base and led an escape. He rode into the American Army camp ahead of the motley survivors of the 107th and other units.

"Captain Rogers." Colonel Philips bellowed.

He started to part his lips, but caught Peggy shaking her head. After saving Bucky, he could do this all day.


End file.
